


Six Is Better Than One

by ribbonelle



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Orgy, Other, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was nothing but a logical solution to a problem. Prowl wasn't functioning optimally. A mech did what he needed to do, and that was it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Is Better Than One

**Author's Note:**

> okay. i'm gonna tell you that i have never in my life even wrote a threesome, so this is probably gonna come off as really awkward. i also don't know much about the constructicons, and forgive me if i've addressed their altmode wrong, or their behavior (even prowl's), and feel free to correct me on that! and this isn't as sloppy as i would have liked it to be, bbbut yknow. Phew i hope this isn't too bad nevertheless :D also the title is SO lame i'm sorry (i hope it hasn't been used though?? frick)
> 
> for lorvikatarri on tumblr!

Prowl’s glare was intimidating, and even more so as he turned his head, locking optics with every single Constructicon in the room. His field was flaring with hostility, and the rest of the gestalt were a little more than anxious. Were they summoned to be reprimanded? Did one of them do something they weren’t supposed to?

It was so weird, since Prowl had summoned them to the enforcer’s berthroom, rather than his office. That must mean something. Hook even bravely tried to poke at Prowl’s side of their connection, but the block did not give way at all; and Prowl’s head snapped in his direction immediately. Hook dropped his harassing right away.

There was nothing but silence, and mechs were starting to get fidgety. What was going on?

“There will be no exposing of sparks,” Prowl said eventually, voice loud and clear, “No abuse of the gestalt bond. When I say stop, you _stop._ If you don’t, I will harm you. Do not even doubt that.”

Another bout of silence. Long Haul piped up with disbelief in his tone, “What are you saying, Prowler?”

Something akin to pain flashed across Prowl’s faceplates before it disappeared, and his voice was as steady as ever, “We will interface. It happens today, now, and then we never talk about this again. I concede that there is a need for intercourse due to the gestalt bond and the urge is hindering my ability to function optimally. Getting rid of this nuisance is the most rational course of action.”

Five pairs of red optics were bright in their surprise and disbelief. But it was Mixmaster’s engine who revved first, and he sheepishly looked away as if it never happened.

It was a curious thing, Prowl’s sudden demand, but it was understandable. Basal needs were wrestling with Prowl’s battle protocols and the result was his inability of working at his best. It was natural. The Constructicons totally got it. It wasn’t that Prowl had finally realized that it was best that they be in each other’s company as a complete gestalt hopefully forever, but it was something. They weren’t going to be picky now.

“What about a safeword?” Bonecrusher rumbled, “Somethin’ you say to really call it quits, you know, so—“

“No. I say stop, you _stop._ Are we clear? If you can’t understand that, let’s not waste more time and just call this thing off—“

“No, no. We’re good. Stop if you say so, this is a one-time thing.  No sparks, no messin’ with you over the bond. Got it. We’re clear.” Hook confirmed, voice steady. No other mech pointed out the slight tremor in his hands which were lax at his sides.

Prowl gave the crane a long look before nodding sharply. Determination was etched into his faceplates. He definitely knew what he was asking for. More silence, before Prowl shifted and unfolded his arms.

“Alright. We’ll start,” he turned and strode over to his berth; a fairly well-sized slab, probably catering to his previous rank; and laid down on it, his upper torso propped up by the wall where the berth was pushed up against.

He pulled his legs up, knees close together, and lifted his chin up in an almost challenging gesture. No other mech moved. The challenge in Prowl’s optics wavered a little, his expression weakening. But he parted his legs still, feet scraping slowly in a sideways arc away from each other. Clearly offering himself, Prowl curled his fingers into fists at either side of his frame, and tried hard to regulate the rush of energon to his faceplates. Embarrassing or not, he wanted this.

“Come on,” he said simply, and his panel slid open.

Something snapped.

It wasn’t desperation, nor was it a surge of desire. It was simply five beings moving to be with their sixth, a puzzle seeking its last piece for completion, the gestalt bond almost ringing in its intensity at the promise of being whole again. Prowl’s forced determination melted away from his faceplates as numerous hands reached for him.

To his surprise, neither of them went for his bared valve first. Bonecrusher got behind him in an almost impressive display of grace, pulling Prowl into his lap, his hands instantly going for the Autobot’s hips. Mixmaster practically fell to his knees to press his mouth to the enforcer’s headlights in eagerness. The slathering of oral lubricant on his plating made Prowl arch, right into Bonecrusher’s own hungry suckling at his neck. It was almost primal, their gestures, and Prowl wanted more of it.

He reached out to tug a hovering Scavenger into an embrace, hardly able to suppress an amused smile at the mech’s surprised squeak. Hook was dipping fingers into his seams, sending pleasure zinging along his neural network, and Long Haul had the most interesting look on his faceplates; optics all dim and he was running his palms over the expanse of Prowl’s legs languidly, as if mapping every plane and groove of black and white plating.

Prowl surged forward to kiss Scavenger, lipplates smacking onto the Constructicon’s facemask. Scavenger made a choked sound, before pulling back. For an instant, Prowl thought he had erred, and was about to ask what was wrong before Scavenger’s facemask retracted and the mech reached for him again, trembling hands cupping Prowl’s face. They kissed again, and Scavenger moaned sweetly into Prowl’s mouth.

Scavenger’s weight on him was almost suffocating, as was everyone else practically piled up on him, but the sensation was somewhat welcome. Prowl felt like he would be crushed, and wanted it. Licking into Scavenger’s mouth, he felt fingers inching up his thigh and a digit was dragged in between the folds of his valve. He moaned harshly, biting at Scavenger’s lips in reprisal.

He was jerked back then, a large hand reaching to pull his helm to the side. A palm rubbed insistently on his spike housing as Bonecrusher devoured his mouth, rendering him strutless for a while. The moment he allowed his spike to rise, fingers wrapped around it, tugging at him with a certain expertise. Bonecrusher released Prowl in time for the Autobot to see Hook smearing lubricant over the head of his spike, and the medic leaned to lick a swathe along the black appendage, taking the time to swirl his glossa over orange biolights.

It wasn’t Prowl’s intention to moan till his vocalizer shorted out temporarily, but he did. Mixmaster looked up from his worship of Prowl’s chest and grinned, even as Prowl reached to pull at him roughly for a kiss. The chemist seemed frantic, kissing Prowl silly in his frenzy, being almost unnecessarily messy. He licked and sucked at Prowl’s mouth, resulting in Prowl’s own efforts at response and it wasn’t long before oral lubricant smeared all over their chins, and the noise of their wet osculation loud in the berthroom.

They parted with Prowl biting at Mixmaster’s lower lip component, letting go when the mech moved too far away. Mixmaster looked entranced.

“You’re so _hot,_ Prowl. So sweet,” rumbled the Constructicon, leaning to rub his face against Prowl’s cheek, “We should do this always.”

Prowl knew he had stated earlier that there was to be no repeat of their current activity, but it didn’t seem to occur to him to reconfirm that. He only slid a limb along Mixmaster’s front, before cupping the chemist’s crotchplates with his hand.

Scavenger was squirming in Prowl’s lap enticingly, his panel now open as he tried to push himself against Prowl’s spike. Hook was still using his mouth and hands and exchanged glances with his fellow gestaltmate, giving Scavenger room to grind.

A finger slipped inside Prowl’s now slick valve and he moaned, bucking up into the friction. Not that his movement was much, considering the way he was pinned by the other Constructicons, but Long Haul indulged him, pushing the finger in to the knuckle and curled it. Prowl gasped, the sound stuttering and needy, and five other vocalizers produced their own noises of appreciation.

“You like that?” said Long Haul, thrusting that one finger in and out as he locked eyes with Prowl, and proceeded to push in another fairly easily, “That feel good?”

Mixmaster had his hands on Prowl’s chest again and he arched into the touch, nodding frantically, “Yes, yes, it’s good. More.”

Long Haul’s field pulsed with smugness, and he fucked Prowl with his fingers. The police car spent a while writhing and thrashing in Bonecrusher’s hold, ending up reaching back to grab at the Constructicon’s helm as he pushed his hips so green fingers sunk into him deeper, and Hook’s grip on his spike grew tighter.

Bonecrusher nibbled and licked at Prowl’s neck cables, kneading dents into the Autobot’s hips still. Hook could fix those later. He’d rather enjoy himself whole-heartedly while he could. The fingers inside Prowl were almost ruthless in their thrusting, curling and pressing against the nodes inside his valve. It was good pressure, even better friction, and Prowl almost yelled when Long Haul pulled his hand away.

Pink lubricant was stringing in between the truck’s fingers as he spread them apart. Prowl could almost feel Long Haul’s smirk despite him being with a facemask, “Mm, Prowl. So messy. Wonder how wet you’d get when we finally frag you.”

As if proving a point, some lubricant pulsed out of the slightly widened valve, and Prowl was mortified. It was only till Scavenger twisted his body to lean down and take Long Haul’s fingers in his mouth did Prowl’s embarrassment lessen. Scavenger was enthusiastic, cheekplates hollowing as he suckled and licked sloppily, cleaning Long Haul’s fingers.

Prowl watched with great interest, even afterwards, when Long Haul pressed his fingers against Scavenger’s lips and pushed them in, pressing on the mech’s glossa. He made Scavenger take them, and Prowl could see the power shovel’s throat work to swallow around the intrusion. Almost simultaneously, intense, wet heat enveloped Prowl’s spike that made him groan aloud, venting turning into steam as he looked down with dim optics at Hook.

The medic had deep throated his spike, optics offline as he took what he couldn’t swallow in his hand, thumb rubbing sensuous circles at the base of Prowl’s spike. Prowl couldn’t help it. He reached to lay a hand gently on Hook’s helm, fingers absently playing with the edges of the black metal. Hook’s optics onlined and they were a deep red, and Prowl’s spark gave a violent swirl at the sight. Hook hollowed his own cheekplates and _sucked,_ and Prowl very nearly screamed.

“Gonna frag you,” Bonecrusher said gruffly, pressing his face against Prowl’s neck, his grip on Prowl’s hips tightening, “For Primus’ sake, please say you’re ready.”

Prowl moaned his agreement, a breathy, staticky ‘Yes’, and the Constructicons got to work. Bonecrusher’s hands moved from dented hips to slip under Prowl’s aft, easily lifting both his and Scavenger’s weight with a heave. Mixmaster took to distracting Prowl with more sloppy kisses onto his chest, before occupying the Autobot’s mouth, his kisses not limited to just lip components. He grazed dentae over Prowl’s chin and jaw, and Prowl found it fun to try and catch Mixmaster’s mouth.

And before he even realized it, Long Haul had once again pushed fingers inside him and spread him apart, just in time for Bonecrusher’s massive spike to nudge experimentally at Prowl’s opening, the head making contact with the stretched rim of Prowl’s valve. Scavenger shifted his hips, Hook gave a particularly hard suck, and Bonecrusher jerked his hips as Mixmaster bit lightly on Prowl’s tongue. The head of the huge spike made its way into Prowl with the aid of Long Haul’s fingers, and it eventually popped inside, valve lips stretched taut around its girth.

Prowl froze.

“Stop. Wait, s-stop. Don’t move.”

All movements ceased. The Constructicons stopped, it was as if time itself froze. Only Scavenger slid off Prowl’s lap, watching the law enforcer with bright, concerned optics.

Bonecrusher groaned like he was dying, “Do you…need me out? I can get out. Even if…I’d slaggin’ die if I do that—“ Hook smacked him upright the back of his head and he shut right up. Prowl shook his own head nevertheless, and his valve rippled experimentally around Bonecrusher’s spike.

“No, just…give me a moment. Don’t move till I tell you to,” he whispered, looking up at the other mechs watching him intently, “Touch me.”

They obliged immediately, hands roving over his frame, mouths tracing wet patterns on his plating. Prowl relaxed, his head tilted back to rest over Bonecrusher’s shoulder. He was too aware of the spike partly inside of him, but willed himself to gradually take more of it. He reached down, hands resting on Bonecrusher’s thighs, anchoring himself. With his newfound stability, Prowl lowered himself down slow, stopping every so often when the stretch proved to be a little too much.

He could hear Bonecrusher’s harsh venting at the side of his head, and Mixmaster was kind enough to distract the mech by leaning over Prowl to kiss him. Bonecrusher kissed like he was hungry, and Prowl’s optics dimmed at the sight. Hook was fingering the grooves of his chest, and Prowl tore his gaze from Mixmaster and Bonecrusher to lean forward and lock lips with the medic.

Prowl spent a few more kliks adjusting, his valve accommodating the size of the spike inside it before he pulled back, leaning against Bonecrusher again, “Okay. Okay, get in me. _Slowly._ ”

The Constructicon obeyed, grip hard on Prowl’s hips again, and carefully, gently pulled the Autobot down. The stretch was amazing. Prowl felt every inch penetrating him, intense heat and gratifying ridges sliding over deep set nodes that sent liquid pleasure through his circuits. His aft met Bonecrusher’s hips eventually, and he vented out a breathless noise, reaching back to grip at the mech’s helm.

“Alright, I got it. Just say when,” murmured Bonecrusher, a hand sliding up Prowl’s frame now that the law enforcer was seated. He tweaked Prowl’s chevron before soothing it with his fingers, and Prowl grunted in displeasure. It wasn’t anything serious though, as he was right away distracted by Long Haul creeping up closer, whose optics flashed in amusement. He reached to rub a thumb over Bonecrusher’s spike, where Prowl’s valve rim was stretched over it.

Prowl shuddered, and he could feel lubricant trying to pulse out of his valve but failing. He was stuffed full. Scavenger had been watching Long Haul’s ministrations carefully, before he scooted closer and got onto his knees, leaning down.

“Um, Prowl? Can I just…Hook your legs over my shoulders, maybe?”

Prowl’s faceplates burned, “I can’t really…”

Hook and Mixmaster helped right away, gently lifting Prowl’s legs up on either side of Scavenger’s head. The movement caused the angle of Bonecrusher’s spike to shift, and Prowl found himself gasping, the huge spike pressing up against his stomach; the pressure difficult to ignore.

He had no idea what Scavenger was up to with his request, until there was the wet slide of a glossa along the taut rim of his valve, and from Bonecrusher’s groaning, probably on his spike as well. Scavenger took his time licking and sucking at where they were joined, and Prowl was trying hard not to slam himself on the spike already, in fear he’d tear something.

A hand slid over the plating of his abdomen though, and Hook was marvelling.

“Frag. I think that’s the outline of Bonecrusher’s spike. No, seriously, that’s it, right?”

Long Haul butted in, leaning over Scavenger’s curled frame to inspect Prowl’s stomach. His optics flashed, “Primus. I think it is,” he looked up in excitement, “Prowl, look! You’re actually bulging in the middle from Bonecrusher.”

“What?” The Autobot’s optic ridges rose and he craned his neck, trying to see what the Constructicons were on about. He twisted his body to and fro, and eventually huffed in frustration, dropping back on Bonecrusher, “I can’t see! My chest’s in the way.”

There was silence, before laughter broke out in the room. Every Constructicon was laughing; Scavenger had paused in his licking to giggle against Prowl’s thigh; even Bonecrusher was rumbling in amusement and Prowl felt the vibrations travelling through his valve.

He couldn’t help it. He laughed too.

He stopped laughing eventually, smile still gracing his faceplates. Mixmaster surged forward to kiss his smiling lips before trailing kisses down to his chest, almost playfully grazing dentae over the orange biolights. Prowl bit his lower lip component and arched into the sensation, simultaneously shifting Bonecrusher inside of him again and made the mech moan. Prowl ex-vented.

“Okay. Enough of that. Let’s do this.”

Scavenger slipped out from under Prowl’s legs, and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Bonecrusher’s hands moved to grip Prowl firmly by the thighs, and he lifted the mech slowly, till it was only the head of his spike inside of the Autobot, and pulled him down.

Prowl’s vocalizer reset a few times in his pleasured surprise. The re-entry of the spike was making him lose his mind and he reached out to grab someone; anyone; as Bonecrusher upped the pace. Scavenger was closest, and Prowl kissed him and held onto his shoulders hard while the law enforcer’s hips bucked, wanting it harder.

Hands were roving over his frame again, and he shut his optics in favour of focusing on the rough drag and slide of Bonecrusher’s spike. There were fingers pulling his head this way and that and he followed, being kissed in turn as his vocalizer rebooted and small, broken moans escaped him every time the spike pushed against his ceiling node.

It didn’t take long for Prowl to become a screaming mess, arching his back and taking things into his own hands. He rode Bonecrusher’s spike hard, palms pressing into the mech’s thighs as he lifted himself up and lowered himself down time and time again, his thoughts fragmenting.

He couldn’t remember when his battle protocols had shut down completely, but it was only primitive instinct that guided him now, up to the point of completion. He came with a drawn out moan full of static, valve spiralling down almost painfully on Bonecrusher’s spike. Bonecrusher’s own overload was a rush of transfluid and charge inside of him that whited his optics out.

Prowl’s spark crackled and spat and he almost allowed his chestplates to part, but a weight fell over him and there were mouths on his face and hands on his frame and he was thankful.

//

He didn’t stay offline for very long, waking up to the sight of the Constructicons attempting to relieve charge with each other. He took a while simply observing, before offering to help, clearly bothered again.

Long Haul and Mixmaster had started up an argument of who should go first, before Prowl intervened and demanded to have one of them use his mouth. It was probably because of Mixmaster’s curious fascination with using his own mouth, but Prowl found himself being fucked in both cavities at the same time. His valve had been sufficiently stretched by the time Bonecrusher was done, and Long Haul took great pleasure in slipping his spike inside the slick valve, even pointing out the obscene, squelching noises resulting from their coupling.

Prowl would have reprimanded the mech, if he didn’t have Mixmaster’s spike in his mouth. It was humiliating, what with oral lubricant trailing down his chin and onto the berth, but Mixmaster was almost delirious in his praise for Prowl. He let Prowl suck at his own pace, before thanking the Autobot repeatedly when he went lax and allowed Mixmaster to fuck his mouth.

He overloaded with Long Haul still pounding away at his valve, and Mixmaster licking the transfluid from his lip components.

Then, Hook and Scavenger took their turn; Hook pushing digits into Prowl’s leaking opening as Scavenger straddled the Autobot, shyly kissing him and rubbing their spikes together. It was terribly sweet, Scavenger writhing and rutting against Prowl before reaching down to guide Prowl’s spike into himself. Hook watched with fondness in his optics, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with Scavenger’s own pace.

The charge built up slow and torturously, and Prowl pulled Hook harder into himself with his legs, and fucked Scavenger so hard the Constructicon almost bounced atop him, which was amazing considering their weight difference. He came with broken sobs hitching his ventilations. Hook’s spike moved in him throughout his climax, and Scavenger exchanged little moans against his open mouth as the mech’s valve milked him dry.

Prowl was exhausted.

He felt as if every molecule of his being had been put through a high-powered washer and was consequently wrung out of even the smallest amount of energy. Every inch of his plating was giving off heat, and satiation was all-encompassing in his field.

Prowl was undoubtedly, wholly satisfied.

So were the other heaving frames, trying to catch their breaths.

A random green hand came into the periphery of Prowl’s vision, holding an energon cube. It was Long Haul, “Mix’s brew. Pretty good. You need it.”

“Thank you,” he answered, noting how messed up his vocalizer was. Pushing himself up slightly, Prowl drank, and handed the cube back to the truck. He glanced over at the five frames occupying his berth, and felt his programming come to life, slowly but surely.

It was Scavenger who pushed himself up a little, optics still dim from his recent overload, “Prowl? Can we maybe…recharge here for the night? We’ll leave in the morning, promise. Thing is…” he glanced over at the snoring Bonecrusher, and gave Prowl an apologetic look.

Prowl didn’t say a word for a while, before nodding.

“Alright. Only for the night.”

The responding smiles and smirks from the other conscious Constructicons were almost overwhelming, but the gestalt bond behaved.

Prowl laid down eventually, and servos reached for him, resting on his plating and fingers laced with his. It felt very nice, and Prowl allowed himself to indulge for now.

After all, this wasn’t going to happen again, ever. He could afford to give himself a break.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course it happened again. Prowl was a normal mech, after all.


End file.
